1001 Alagaësian Nights
by Kristal 42
Summary: After discovering his beloved's affinity for bedtime stories, a certain young Shur'tugal agrees to tell her 1001 tales if she'll be his mate. ExA, Saphira x Fìrnen and all other manner of odd pairings, randomness and light Alagaësian humour.
1. Chapter 1

**Night the First: The Beginning of the Beginning**

When her nightly reading session was rudely interrupted by a somewhat loud knock on her chamber door, Arya immediately assumed the worst. She could sense a familiar presence coming from whoever it was behind that door (someone who was evidently an idiot-you'd have to be, to leave your mind virtually unprotected like that). Extremely miffed by the late visitor, she strode over and yanked the door open in, like, three tenths of a second, being an elf and all.

Her visitor, who had been leaning on the door, promptly fell over in an ungainly manner at her feet. He was a little slower than an average elf in getting up (two and a half hundredths of a millisecond), and definitely much less elegant. Arya simply watched with that permanently indifferent expression of hers, though her perfect mask slipped for a nanosecond when she glimpsed the visitor's face.

"Eragon?"

He blinked, nodded. "That would be me, yes. And, of course, Saphira-" he motioned to a massive blue scaly form behind him-"who, of course, accompanied me here to Ellesmèra. I mean, she flies at, I don't know, three hundred thousand miles per hour or something."

"Right. But-"

Arya was prevented from saying whatever she'd been planning to say by a slightly smaller, equally scaly green mass that bowled her over in his hurry to tackle Saphira. The blue dragon ended up in a rather awkward position, with Fìrnen licking her all over like an oversized, overexcited dog. _Sapphy! Ohmynonexistentgods, you're here! Here! In Ellesmèra! Have you come to see me? Do we have any, y'know, offspring since last time yet?_

The two Riders glanced at one another, clearly embarrassed. Eragon nervously cleared his throat. "Um, actually, Fìrnen, she was just my mode of transport here."

Saphira nodded her agreement. _He wanted to visit Arya._ At a glare from Eragon, she added, _And, erm, check up on the status on the land and stuff. It's not like Alagaësia has its own Facebook page yet. Extremely inconvenient, having to travel all the way here when you can just post. Ah well, at least it was only a two-hour flight. _

_Oh._ Fìrnen sat back. _But you haven't answered my question. Did we have any eggs? What colour are they? Are we going to, you know..._

As one, Eragon and Arya shut the door on their dragons and faced one another in the relative privacy of Arya's quarters. Blocking out their partners-of-heart-and-mind didn't take long-Fìrnen was beginning to be a bit... turned on, something neither Rider wanted to hear or see. This time, it was Arya who interrupted the silence by clearing her throat. "So, Eragon... what brings you here, really?"

The said elf-human hybrid turned pink to the tips of his ears. He strolled over abruptly to Arya's bed and picked up the book she'd been reading: _1000 Bedtime Stories_ by a certain Angela the Herbalist. "I didn't know you liked stories."

Crossing her arms defensively, Arya replied, "Well, I do. Don't change the subject. Why'd you fly all the way here just to check up on the land? And you're wrong-I mean, Saphira's wrong-about Alagaësia not having a Facebook page. It's been up since we elves got the Internet up and running, practically." Her fierce green stare turned accusing.

Eragon mumbled something stupid about not searching in the right place. Arya rolled her eyes, which only turned his ear-tips a bright red. "Honestly, Eragon, you're not thick-well, not _very_-and neither am I. You're not here for Alagaësia's sake, are you?" Crimson darkened to a deep maroon at her words. "Please tell me you're not-oh, sweet Galbatorix, you're here to beg me to be your mate again, aren't you?"

His blush more than gave him away. "Well," she sighed, "alright."

Eragon blinked, all colour disappearing from his face. "Wait, what? You'll be my mate? Just like that?"

"It would be a complete waste of your time flying here if I didn't." Arya shrugged as if she couldn't care less. "Why, is something wrong?"

"Yes, actually!" Eragon was starting to turn pink once more for an entirely different reason. "I mean, Christopher Paolini would never let me have you that easily! He's been dragging out our so-called 'romance' throughout the series! I have to do something to earn your affection and undying love and all first, or millions of readers will complain!"

"I'm impressed." Arya nodded her approval of her new sort-of-mate's reasoning. "Wise words, Argetlam. I suppose, in exchange for my suddenly becoming your mate, you could tell me stories."

"Stories?" Eragon held up the book. "Like these?"

"Yep, only don't make them as mysterious as Angela's. And you'll have to tell me a thousand of them, for interrupting my reading."

Grinning, he replied, "Ill do better than that, Arya. I'll tell you a thousand and_ one_ stories. Sounds good?"

"Since I'm at the receiving end of this particular bonus, yes, very okay."

"Well then, what are we waiting for?"

Arya sighed. "First of all, we could get in bed."

The girlish blush returned to his ears (really, what is with CP making him turn red so often?). "Good point. Well, then," he began as they promptly hopped into Arya's conveniently wide four-poster bed, "tonight's story takes place... tonight, actually. You see, there were these two dragons..."


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: A very big thank you to all who have added this story on their alert lists. Your support is truly encouraging.

Please forgive me for taking so long to update. Most days, I lack time and inspiration. Which is where you, my dear readers, come in! Any suggestions, prompts, requests, challenges and the like will be very welcome. As I really am planning to write 1001 chapters for this fic, all who contribute will have a night (or several nights) dedicated to them.

And now, on to the next night! This one is dedicated in loving memory of my amazing writing buddy, **emo_what97** (on LiveJournal), in honour of her fifteenth birthday. May she rest in peace.

**Night the Second: The End of the Elves?**

"_Ready?" Eragon asked, flopping onto the bed._

"_For tonight's tale? Very much so," his sort-of-mate replied with an extremely un-Arya-like enthusiasm. _

"_Drat," he muttered under his breath as she continued, "You didn't think I'd let you off, did you? 'Cause if you bail on me, I'll bail on you."_

"_Right," Eragon sighed. "Where was I?"_

"_Saphira and Fìrnen had woken up, ready for another go."_

" '_Kay. Well, then…"_

The two dragons, especially the slightly smaller green one, were quite keen on continuing their little 'wrestling match' when a small, violet-eyed girl burst out of a nearby room. Evidently, she didn't have any respect for anyone's sleep (or certain less mundane activities), as she was yelling at the top of her voice.

"The end is near! Death and destruction throughout Alagaësia! The fall of the greatest race of all—the elves!"

Receiving no response, save the blank look that passed between the beasts, Elva sucked in a deep breath and yelled twice as loud as before. "I SAID, THE END IS NEAR! DON'T YOU PEOPLE, LIKE, CARE?"

Angela, the mysterious author, herbalist and goodness knows what else, stuck her head into the hall. "Sounds serious. How many hits do you think I'll get if I post it on Tumblr?"

Elva gaped at her. "The world as we know it is going to be non-existent really, really soon, and all you can think about is being popular on the Internet?"

The door next to Angela's opened a crack, and Blödhgarm's furry shoulders and head emerged. "Do you mind?" he yawned. "It's the middle of the night, and _some _of us are trying to get some sleep."

"I'm surprised you could sleep at all, what with Arya shrieking away like a mad banshee," Elva—

"_I do not shriek like a mad banshee!" Arya cut in, cuffing her fellow Argetlam hard round the head. _

"_Okay, okay, okay. I'll cut that out," winced Eragon. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes…"_

"I'm surprised you could sleep at all, what with all the noise from over _there_," Elva shot back, looking rather pointedly in the direction of Arya's quarters. "Honestly, you'd think they had the sense to ward the door, at the very least."

Blödhgarm's eyes shot open wide. "They?"

"Eragon," Angela clarified, rolling her eyes. "Young people these days."

Elva began an extremely immature rant about stereotyping by age, centred, of course, on herself. Thankfully, they were stopped by yet another rudely woken elf—well, living being, seeing as Angela couldn't exactly be classified as an elf—who slammed the door open before realising that he was completely nude.

"What," he hissed as he grabbed a random cloak and wrapped it round himself, "in the name of those dwarves' non-existent gods, is going on around here?"

"We might ask you the same question." Angela raised her eyebrows at his dishevelled appearance. "At least you had the sense to ward the door, unlike your half-brother. D'you think you could mention it to him tomorrow over breakfast?"

Before Murtagh could answer, someone else appeared over his shoulder. "Can this please just wait till morning?" she groaned. "We're kind of in the middle of something here!"

Elva's jaw dropped. "This _whole entire freaking world_ is going to _end _and you ask if it can _wait till tomorrow_?"

Angela sighed. "Elva, what exactly did you see in this dream of yours?"

"Lots of fire, and blood, and Eragon being electrocuted!"

Murtagh's eyes widened. "Whoa. Not very nice for a ten-year-old."

"I'm not even five," huffed the girl.

Murtagh's lady friend cleared her throat pointedly, looking somewhat irritated at having her beloved Shur'tugal snatched from her by an infant with a loud voice.

"Right," Murtagh sighed. "Yell if you need us. The door will be shut, locked, bolted, sealed and barred against all sound, so good luck. Now," the spectators briefly heard him say as he shut the door and locked, bolted, sealed and barred it as promised, "Where were we?"

Angela and Blödhgarm exchanged a look. "Elva," the former yawned, "if you need us, our doors will be shunt, lost, bowled, swilled and whatever else Murtagh said, okay? Goodnight." The heavy two-foot-thick oak door slammed shut.

"What she said," Blödhgarm said, hastily retreating into his quarters. The sound of bolts and latches being drawn could be heard for about half an hour after—evidently, the wolf-like elf was taking no chances.

Elva sighed, returning to her own room at the other end of the hall. "If only they'd stayed to hear the part about the…"

Hehe. An open ending to an open plot.

In case it wasn't obvious, Murtagh's 'lady friend' is none other than the birthday girl. Amber, please don't kill me. I couldn't resist. You have to admit, the idea of you and Murtagh could keep me going for at least ten chapters.

Man, do I have a twisted mind.

Anyways, reviews, people! Many thanks to **TercesWarrior93**, and **perseus2247** for your comments. I meant to thank you all personally, but, quite honestly, I'm rushing for time as is already. I'm really really sorry.


End file.
